


How to Sear a Heart

by sextile



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Falling In Love, Haikyuu Angst Week 2020, Insecurity, M/M, no happy ending, pining osamu, pining suna, side atsukita, very slight gore metaphors maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sextile/pseuds/sextile
Summary: Suna was a fucking good kisser.His hand slid up the back of Osamu’s head, fingers threading through soft hair. His other arm was looped around his waist, clutching the fabric of the shirt at the small of his back. They were the last in the change rooms and Suna was pressed up against the wall, hair mussed and cheeks a shade lighter than the red of Nekoma jerseys.-6 easy steps to sear a heart! Yours or someone else's. Make sure to leave a five star rating!
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	How to Sear a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> for hq angst week day 2 insecurity and day 5 "did you ever love me?"

* * *

**Step 1: Prepare your ingredients.**

* * *

_ You have always been second place. _

The sun that was Osamu’s brother caught the attention of every person within a mile radius, leaving him alone with the dirt to call his home. 

_ You have always been second place. _

But second place was comfortable. And he held onto it with every violent flash of his fangs. This was  _ his _ . This empire he had created was his own and nothing changed the universe-created fact that Atsumu was always first, and Osamu was always second. Being in the shadow of his brother allowed him more freedom to do what he wished, and he was never one to care for public image anyway. He let Atsumu take more than what he deserved because it meant no one was looking at him.

Until he met Suna Rintarou. 

Second semester of first year.

The teacher introduced him as he stood at the front of the classroom, wet bangs plastered to his face, a soaked blazer on his arm, almost dripping onto the floor. He slouched like a father with a child on his back and a small line of water made its way from temple to chin. The state of his appearance didn’t seem to bother him as he ran a hand through his hair and surveyed the class with a bored expression. 

“Suna-kun, there’s a free spot next to Miya-kun, please take a seat.”

Osamu sat up as the boy looked around, their eyes catching each other. Suna blinked, looking away, as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder and walked to the empty seat to the left of Osamu. He dropped his bag to the floor and his wet blazer onto the back of his seat and slumped into the chair. The teacher began her class.

The boy beside Osamu made no noise and he had to stop himself from staring at the new kid, curious instinct taking a hold of him. He forced his eyes to the pen scribbles on his desk and holes made with scissors, tuning out the monotone drone of the teacher’s voice. He almost fell asleep if it weren’t for the poke in his arm with the end of a pencil.

He turned, and the boy, whose hair spiked outwards like coarse paint brushes, was watching the front, but he held out a torn piece of notebook paper between his index and middle finger to Osamu. Snagging the piece before the teacher could see, he hid it behind a book and unfolded it.

_ Skip school with me. _

He glimpsed at the boy––Suna––who raised an eyebrow at him. 

And for the first time, Osamu wanted to step out of his comfort zone _. _

* * *

**Step 2: Pat it dry and season it.**

* * *

Second year. Summer.

Constant volleyball practice with the addition of Aran-kun watching his every move didn’t help the sweltering heat. But at least it was an excuse for why his face was so flushed every time he saw Suna greedily drink from his bottle––the bob of his Adam’s apple, the sharp line of his jaw. It made Osamu almost forget how to spike.

( _ Almost _ ––he was not like Bokuto.)

Unravelling the angel of hellfire and floods that was Suna Rintarou made Osamu ache. It was Suna who was on his mind as he brushed his teeth in the morning. It was Suna who he wished he was making dinner for. It was Suna who his eyes lingered on in change rooms, in classrooms, on the pathway to school. If the earth shattered, he would wonder if Suna was safe. 

He knew he was falling fast because he was acting like Atsumu: certified idiot, epitome of stupidity. 

Now Osamu was the one who straddled the line between a fool and a failure.

He glanced over at his brother in front of the fan. Shirtless, sweaty, gross. The ends of his hair fluttered back under the weight of strong air at the highest possible speed. Suna sat next to him, legs spread and leaning back on his arms. His tank top was loose on his frame and for a second, Osamu was glad Suna had started coming home with them after school. He then reminded himself not to ogle. 

“Rin, wanna get some ice-cream?” he drawled from where he sat near the open window. He had claimed natural wind was just as good and he was too prideful to admit defeat.

Suna turned to Atsumu. “Wanna come?” 

Atsumu yawned and shook his head. “Nah. ’M good here. The both of ya can get me some.”

Suna exhaled and nodded, peeling his limbs from the floor as he stood. Osamu grabbed a cap and a wallet as he opened the door for Suna and headed out behind him. 

“Nearest store’s just a block away,” he said, chucking the cap at his friend who merely rolled his eyes and shoved it onto his head. The heat and humidity cascaded towards them and Osamu already felt like he was melting onto the pavement as he took his sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on. 

“You say that like I haven’t been there with Atsumu before.”

Osamu tilted his head. “Since when?” They had never mentioned it.    
  


Suna hummed. “We go every time you have to stay back at school for whatever it is you do,” he said, flicking his bangs out of his face. “You were probably making out with a girl all those times now that I think about it.”

Osamu knew his tone was teasing, but he couldn’t help but grimace at the thought he ever came off as straight. “Rin, I’m gay.”

“Me too,” Suna replied, continuing to walk ahead, as if the universe didn’t just explode and then reform in a matter of seconds. 

Osamu stared dumbly at his back then shook himself off and jogged to catch up. 

Suna turned to Osamu as he fell into step beside him. He quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “Were you making out with a guy then? I heard one of the first years was into you.” 

Osamu sputtered out a graceful, “No, what the  _ fuck _ Rin?”

Suna smirked. “Just saying.” He kept his eyes on Osamu’s for a moment longer before heading into the  _ konbini _ Osamu didn’t realise was already there. He stayed outside and blinked at the pavement, catching his bearings. He was sweating through his shirt and no human man needed water as much as he did in that moment.

_ You never thought you had a chance with him. _

Osamu looked up and watched through the window as Suna made a beeline to the freezers, holding the door open as he stood in the cold air it let out. His eyes fluttered shut and his whole body relaxed incrementally, shoulders slouching even further if that was even possible. 

Groaning softly, Osamu swung the door wide and walked in, heading to the spot next to Suna. An involuntary shudder running through his body at the sudden change in temperature. “Wanna ditch ‘Tsumu and just stay here?” he asked, half-jokingly. 

“We promised him ice-cream.”

“We promised him  _ jack _ .”

“Get over yourself. It’s hot.” 

“Fantastic observation.”

“Like you’re so smart.”

“Shut yer trap.”

“Make me.”

Osamu blinked.

...

_ Make me. _

The two words carved its way into his head and started slamming their fists against the walls of his brain. _Make me._ _Make me shut up._ Was it a hand against his mouth? Banter between two friends? Or was it a taunt to seal his lips against his? Something like an attempt at flirting? All the lobes of his brain were set ablaze and all the neatly stacked files of his memories and learned behaviours were strewn on the floor. 

“It’s always the ones who think they’re suave who aren’t,” Suna snickered, an amused grin plastered on his face. 

“Hey! I never said I thought I was suave.”

“You sure act like it. Now c’mon, you’re paying.”

In the time Osamu spent indulging his runaway thoughts, Suna had grabbed the ice-cream, Atsumu’s favourite flavour alongside his own.

“Ah… yeah.”

_ Make me _ .

The phrase took residence in his brain as he handed over the money. Would Suna want to be kissed by a boy like him? A boy that planted thorns in his garden of wilting alstroemerias and anthuriums when others nurtured their white chrysanthemums and daisies? He was always second place to Atsumu, but he was further behind everyone else than he initially thought. Would Suna prefer someone who placed first, or someone who came second last?

Suna made Osamu want to win. 

_ Suna Rintarou. _

The syllables slipped off his tongue with ease every time he said it, and his heart fell along with the words. It landed on the hot concrete outside of the  _ konbini _ ––but better his heart than the ice-cream. It didn’t cost anything, anyway. 

“You owe me now,” he said as he turned to Suna. His eyes were the same shade of yellow as the four leaf clovers Osamu stuck between the pages of his poetry book that spoke of love like clouds and heaven. His eyes that were more tourmaline than zircon.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” Suna replied. Voice like both the sudden clap of thunder and the shelter when found during rain. His lazy speech mirroring the slow melt of ice-cream onto popsicle stick onto fingers onto palm, heat too unbearable for something too soft. 

Osamu wondered what Suna’s lips would feel like on his.

* * *

**Step 3: Place it in a cast iron skillet. Sear.**

* * *

When winter settled in, it was too late for Osamu to dig his heart out from under the pile of snow. The effort would be exhausting and even if he had tried, he was sure he’d find a mass of tissue, barely beating, even a defibrillator would lack the power to shock it back to genuine love. But somehow, he still wanted to know what Suna’s hands would feel like when intertwined with his, instead of gloved and shoved into the waistband of his tracksuit pants. He found that in class, his eyes landed on brown hair instead of the quadratic formula on the whiteboard (but it wasn’t like he paid attention in the first place). 

The world seemed to snap into place even when Suna said the stupidest of things.  _ Guess I put too much mustard on that one, _ he said.  _ I want your hands on my hips and your lips on my neck,  _ Osamu thought.

Speaking made things real. Speaking made wants into needs and needs always led to desperation when left unfulfilled. 

_ And you are not desperate. _

But Osamu searched up chocolate recipes anyway. 

By February 13, he had tried and tested 10 different variations. Milk chocolate with almonds, white chocolate with raspberries, melting chocolate over the stove instead of in the microwave… Atsumu made sure to snag every test piece the moment they were done and his tendency to voice every thought was unfortunately (fortunately) helpful. 

“So ‘Samu, who has ya wrapped around their pinkie?” he asked, speaking with his mouth open, melted chocolate on every finger of his right hand. 

“None’ya business.”

“C’mon now. Your big brother needs to know who to beat up if yer heart ends up broken,” Atsumu responded in the particular tone of voice that was serious but could be brushed off as a joke.

Osamu rolled his eyes and turned back to his moulds, carefully piping chocolate into heart shaped cavities. The repetitive action made him feel like a master in his own craft. 

Three hours later and they broke when he popped them out. 

But Atsumu gladly ate them.

The next day, Suna stared at Osamu when he presented him with a meticulously wrapped box. It was lunch and snowfall had dwindled to the gentle plummet of feathers after an angel’s death, luring students outside on the rare occasion of easy weather. The classroom was quiet but they still sat in the corner they had sectioned off for themselves. 

“For you,” Osamu said. “Homemade.”

Suna took his hand from his pocket and took the box, bringing it closer to his face, running an eye over the sheer ribbon. “Homemade,” he repeated. 

“Yeah. I like you.”

His chest was tight and maybe his hands were gripping the edge of his chair too tightly. Maybe he felt as if he was 5 feet under snow and the ice pressed up against his cheeks were burning. Maybe he felt like a teenage boy, vulnerable and scared, terrified that his first love won’t like him back.

_ But you wouldn’t know. Your heart is still dying on frozen concrete.  _

Suna was quiet, eyes glued to the chocolates. The ravine of silence yawned beneath him, filled with only the loud shouts from outside, echoing down the walls of rock, threatening a natural disaster within the confines of the earth. 

“Has Atsumu given any chocolates?”

_ Atsumu? _

“No, but the bastard somehow managed to trick Kita-san into giving him some from an expensive new brand.”

Suna tilted his head slightly, eyes shifting from the box to Osamu’s face. The soft smile he offered him was different. His eyes were calculating, like they always were, but they lingered on his own eyes without seeing for a fraction longer than usual.

“...I like you too.”

And those four words caused the floor from underneath him split open, floorboards splintering away into nothingness. Maybe his lungs seized up. If he were standing, his knees would have given way to the weight of something heavier than his heart. Maybe love didn’t exist in a stumbling muscle in Osamu’s chest, but in Suna’s careful words. Maybe he was scared too.

“You do?” Osamu asked, voice quieter than he intended. 

_ You are a boy so stupidly in love. _

Suna tilted his head in affirmation. “Yeah, I like you Miya.”

* * *

**Step 4: Eat it. Notice that it’s burned.**

* * *

Suna was a fucking good kisser.

His hand slid up the back of Osamu’s head, fingers threading through soft hair. His other arm was looped around his waist, clutching the fabric of the shirt at the small of his back. They were the last in the change rooms and Suna was pressed up against the wall, hair mussed and cheeks a shade lighter than the red of Nekoma jerseys. 

Osamu pulled away and panted. His gaze moved from Suna’s lips to his eyes then back down to his parted mouth.

“Sunarin,” he murmured, voice low and on the edge of raspy.

Suna ran an eye over his boyfriend’s wrecked expression. “Osamu.”   
  


“I love you.”

“Never thought you were a sap,” Suna replied with a teasing grin. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Osamu’s bottom lip, sucking slightly before withdrawing and slipping from the cage of his arms. “Lets go. Atsumu’s probably pissy that we’re not there to hit his sets.”

Osamu’s brain processes slowed and he pressed two fingers to his mouth. He dropped his hand and turned with a nod but Suna had already left.

Practice went on as usual with the pleasant heat waning to cool air as it grew closer to the evening. They disbanded early for the day with Kita reminding them to eat a proper meal at home. He told Atsumu to stay back for a moment, claiming that they’d clean up, but the entire team knew it was an excuse to kiss him senseless. 

Osamu watched as his brother perked up and almost  _ skipped _ towards Kita. He picked up his bottle and from the corner of his eye, he noticed Suna watching them with more than just mild interest. Osamu walked up to him and nudged his side. “Lets go.”

He watched as Suna’s eyes stayed focused on the couple behind him before slipping to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You’re cooking dinner for me,” he responded as he made his way back to the change rooms. 

Osamu wasn’t particularly perceptive by any means, but as he glanced back, he could have sworn Suna’s line of sight ended where Atsumu was standing. 

Something twisted in his stomach. He wasn’t one to trust gut instinct over logic and past experiences, but the uneasy feeling of doubt settled in his mind. It wasn’t a feeling he was well acquainted with. The thorns in his garden grew sharper. 

The walk home was quiet, conversation replaced with the faraway hum of cars and the occasional bell warning of bikes. The setting sun left a golden haze on the trees and the shadows loomed over the both of them. 

Osamu adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Sunarin.” 

“Osamu,” he replied. 

“I love you.” 

He didn’t know why those words tumbled from his mouth the second time that day. He knew he didn’t have to say his love for it to be true or for Suna to know that he loved him, but the sea of unease washed upon the shore of his empty chest. Should he be more liberal with his affection? He wanted to reach for Suna’s hand but they were deep in his pockets.

“That’s so gay.”

“..Yeah, well. I’d hope so.”

The corner of Suna’s mouth twitched upwards. “So what’s for dinner?”

“We’ve got some udon.”

Two months.

Suna hadn’t said ‘ _ I love you’. _ And maybe it was Osamu’s water clogged veins but the waves in his body seemed to thrash harder. Was it too early? Did he need to give Suna more time? When did people usually say they loved their partner? When did they cut their hearts from their chests to give it to the one who lost theirs on the fall from heaven to the hell pit that was love? 

He unlocked the door and stepped into the  _ genkan _ , Suna shutting the door behind him. He was glad his parents took the nights they had practice for date nights. They fell into routine: swapping their shoes for indoor slippers, Osamu heading to the fridge, Suna seating himself on the countertop. 

Osamu pulled out the required ingredients, hoping that cooking would still the flood of thoughts he would rather not have.

But Suna seemed adamant on ruining every chance of peace. “Why do you think Atsumu likes Kita-san?” he asked, blunt nails tapping against the marble. 

_ Atsumu. _

“Dunno. What’s not to like about him?”

“I can never poke fun at him. Don’t know how he works.”

Osamu fell silent. Did that mean Suna knew how he worked? He knew himself well enough, but he didn’t think he projected enough to be known in the way Suna claimed to know. Did Suna think he was predictable? He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. And nothing in their relationship seemed to have changed since they started dating except for the addition of making out in empty rooms and dates where the only sort of affection was the curl of his pinkie around Suna’s. 

“Lemme in!” came a voice from the front door, interrupting Osamu’s train of thought and causing Suna to look up from his phone. “I gotta piss!” the voice yelled, knocking quickly. 

“Didja forget your keys?” Osamu yelled back, beginning to prepare a third bowl for his brother. 

“I’ll get it,” Suna mumbled, walking back to the entrance to open up the door. 

“Thanks Sunarin!” Atsumu said as he toed his shoes off and dumped his bag at the entrance to dash to the bathroom. 

Suna walked back to the kitchen, replying, “No problem.”

Osamu studied how Suna returned to his position, combing his hands through his hair and smoothing his hands over his face. Was he imagining it, or were his cheeks more pink? A little flushed? Osamu bit his lip and returned to dinner. 

_ You’re overthinking this. _

But actions speak louder than the words he won’t even say.

Atsumu came back and took up the empty counter space next to Suna. He spread his legs, thigh touching Suna’s, and looked over at Osamu. “Whatcha cookin’ ‘Samu?”

“Use yer eyes ‘Tsumu.”

“Can’t. All I see is Kita-san,” he responded with a grin. Next to him, Suna brought his phone up closer to his face. He didn’t move his leg away.

Osamu took two bowls and brought them over to Suna and Atsumu. “Gross.” He grabbed three pairs of chopsticks and glanced over to Suna, noticing his face was the same shade of rhodonite as when he kissed him for the first time. His eyes were unusually focused on his phone and he knew Suna would have teased Atsumu about staying behind with Kita by now.

_ You’re being possessive. _

He grit his teeth as he leant against the wall, bowl in hand, staring at the floor. Possessiveness stemmed from a lack of self confidence in what you had, and an unconscious insecurity buried in your bones. 

_ And you are not insecure. _

Osamu felt the heat of the bowl pinch at his palm but it grounded him from the crashing waves in his chest. He lifted his gaze to Atsumu and Suna. Atsumu was waving his chopsticks around, avidly complaining about the set up of the storage room––the nets shouldn’t be that low to the ground!––while Suna…

Suna looked at him with eyes conveying a love like clouds and heaven.

And the storm in Osamu’s body flooded the space his heart used to take up.

Two months. 

That’s how long it took for Osamu to notice the way Suna looked at his brother. 

His eyes crinkled at the corners, lips pressing together in a small smile for himself. He ate slowly, the way fools in love did when they were trying to process how such a person existed in a world of dirt and dust and desolation. And it was so clear.

Suna was in love with Atsumu. 

_ Only if you hadn’t let your heart fall. Maybe this would have been less devastating. _

The heat from the bowl in his hand reminded Osamu of his vulnerability and he hissed. “Fuck!” He rushed to the counter and let his bowl clatter onto the top, instantly pressing his hand to his shirt, clutching it hard.

Atsumu stood in alarm. “Give it here. Lemme look,” he said, putting his bowl down and reaching for Osamu’s hand. 

“Fuck off. I’m fine,” Osamu snapped, dropping his chopsticks onto the countertop and stalking to their room.

Silence settled over the two of them in the kitchen. “Well you should probably check on yer boyfriend,” Atsumu said.

“He’s your brother.”

Atsumu huffed. “I don’t talk about feelings with him and this is  _ clearly _ a feelings issue. And y’know… he’s more likely to open up to you about shit.”

Suna sighed. “Fine, okay.” He stood from the counter and made his way to the bedroom, entering without a knock. Osamu was laying on his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the grate of the top bunk. 

“Sunarin,” he said without looking at him. His voice was quiet and restrained, the telltale signs of an attempt not to cry. 

“Osamu.”

“Why do ya keep lookin’ at ‘Tsumu like that?” 

_ Like the stars are in his eyes and the clouds were formed by his hands. Like he’s God and the solar system resides in his smile. Like he’s stopped the floods and earthquakes that so frequently fracture the bones of your body. Like he’s the sun and you are merely the black backdrop to his bright rays. You are second place, again. _

Suna crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “Like what?”

“Like yer in love with him.”

Suna ran his tongue across his teeth and studied Osamu’s features from where he stood. It took him too long to respond. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Y’know, I’ve only realised it now, and I feel so goddamn stupid, but every time Kita-san drops by to pick up ‘Tsumu for a date, you make this face. Like yer jealous. Like you’re  _ fucking _ jealous. And we’ve only gone on two dates while they’ve been on ten. And Kita’s almost fucking graduatin’.” 

Osamu was sitting up now, eyes like crystal daggers aimed at Suna.

“Don’t make that fucking face at me. I know you. I fucking know you. Don’t dump your bullshit excuses all over me. I’m not as stupid as you think.” 

“Osamu, I swear to god I’m not in love with your brother.” Tense. Not the truth. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

* * *

**Step 5: Press the palm of your hand to your open wound.**

* * *

“Did you ever love me?” Osamu asked, standing and taking a few steps towards Suna. His voice was too quiet, but it echoed over the gash in the earth between the two of them. A few more steps and he would fall. Would he be walking closer to his boyfriend, or to the edge of the chasm that demanded surrender? That demanded total loss of control? How many times did he have to fall for Suna?

Suna sunk his nails into his skin. “Yes. Yeah. I do love you.”

_ But not as much as Atsumu. _

They both knew that.

“Why did you agree to date me?”

Suna faltered. “I– I thought… I thought I could learn to love you in the way you wanted me to.” His eyes fell to the floorboards and he scratched absentmindedly at his arm.

“Wrong.”

Suna flinched.

“It’s because ‘Tsumu’s datin’ Kita-san.”

Suna stepped closer and took Osamu’s hand, clasping it with both of his own. His eyes were wide and imploring as he looked at him. “I really thought I could make myself love you more. Please, Osamu.” 

Ships did not drown their sailors because they wanted to. Thunder and waves from storms and angry hearts were the catalyst of deaths on seas. A captain’s falls with their vessel. The ocean feels no remorse. And Suna was the wave which upturned Osamu’s steady ship. 

Osamu stared at the boy he thought he knew. “I'm breakin’ up with you.”   
  


Suna took his hands away to press his palms to his eyes. “Sorry.” 

“That’s all you have to say? Fuck off Rintarou.”

_ You will always be second place. _

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much to detokaki, leo, ares and vinnie for all ur helpful input !! ily all


End file.
